, 1887-07-13
A BRAVE SACRIFICE.

It was after the battle of Froeschwiller.
The French, twenty hours in advance of
the enemy, were returning to Chalons,
whence they intended IN offensive move
ment by way of Montmedy. The greater
part Of the retreating army had already
crossed the Mouse, and all along the river
the bridges had been burned or blown up
TO prevent or delay the pursuit of the
enemy. If this was a ''retard' for the
Germans, it was also destruction for those
Of our own soldiers who found them
selves bewildered and wounded survivors
of the struggle, and left behind desolate
and despairing in the face of h deep and
impossible waters.
Night ONE on and silent shadows
wander along the rivers edges; a group,
confused and gesticulating, standing in
front of the debris of a bridge of which
but one arch remains, erecting itself as
straight as a reed in the middle of the
stream, and absolutely unapproachable.
With the passing hours the shadows be-
come more numerous, the groups more
compact and in the agitated crowds of
corners and goers, soldiers of all arms,
grades and regiments call to and interro-
gate each other, sounding the depth Of
inc NllltI Win lllth DOltos CulbliSs
vchemently shaking their fists at the COM
ing enemy, then all at once silent and
resigned, though bitterly regretting that
they had not been killed in the warm,
sweet sunshine in the battle of the
morning. A fire has been kindled; it is
n point of immediate rally /; the wounded
drag themselves toward the comforting
blaze, and soon a vast circle forms itself
about the blazing wood.
The hours crawl by in WEAKNESS and
silence. Suddenly a loud voice rings
through the drowsy stiffness:
Down the river, some eight leagues
from here, there ought to be a bridge
the bridge of La Fourche. Perhaps it ex-
lists still. Let us go and see"
1t was a lieutenant of infantry who
spoke thus. Standing upright before the
fire, which shines upon him clearly, he
consults. by the light of the flames, a
folded chart, his finger pointing stiily to
n certain dot, the bridge of La Fourche.
The officers surround him, and n ~colloquy
takes place.
ut is true, " they say to the lounging
men; ''the bridge should be there. For
ward, marchl' and every one springs to
his feet.
Then groaning is heard; it comes from
the wounded, shivering and bleeding,
who find this roaring fire so good-the
wounded who are unable to march, and
equally unwilling to be left behind.
''Who commands here?" asks a dragon
suddenly. The officers look at each
other stupidity, then all of them lift their
kepis and silently salute the one who had
asked the question, n huge ~commandant
of cavalry, seeming taller still in the
long, black mantle, which falls to his
knees. He was the only superior officer.
Thanks, m~essieurs," he responds to
the salute; that being the case, all able
soldiers, regardless of rank, will yield
their horses for the transportation of the
wounded. Put put the fire and take the
road"
And setting the example of obedience
to the order given by himself, he I'M
fastcns his horse, and lifting from a ditch
a soldier grooming with a fractured thigh
he lays him like a child across the saddle.
"Hold on, my boy" says he, as, taking
the bride in his hand, he walks to his
place at the head of the column defiling
like phantoms through the gloom of the
night. A pallid moon begins leisurely to
mount in the deep blue sky, but the stars
are few.
The column moves slowly, for all the
wounded nave not horses, but supported
by their comrades in turn crawl along
with reeling heads and tagging footsteps,
moaning with the agony of their wounds,
At first the troop advances resolutely and
with precision, but soon it falls apart like
the rounds OF a ladder. Already the dis
order has brought forth the command ssto
form an advance guard of the most alert,
the rest of the body to hold the wounded
on the horses, - while the crippled and
the lame, resting at every stone. clinping
to every tree, f~iercely, o~bstinately deter
mined not to die, bring up the rear.
A great diversity of uniforms shows it
self in this crowd of soldiers bound to.
gcther bv the feeling of sympathy and
comradeship which invariably follows n
common disaster. Torn from their scat
tered regiments. their colonies dead, their
color bearers lost, thew r@ecopnize each
other only by the accent of then native
provinces. and these improyised and
yaricgntcd crImnanies. rs in the olden